


Red and Orange

by Sicklysnazzy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Flowers, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grief/Mourning, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, High Honor Arthur Morgan, I Made Myself Cry, Injury, Injury Recovery, One Shot, Sad Ending, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sicklysnazzy/pseuds/Sicklysnazzy
Summary: After being shot while trying to help John and Arthur escape Beaver Hollow, you wonder what happened to Arthur. You find him, or rather, his grave





	Red and Orange

**Author's Note:**

> We just need to cry over Arthur sometimes, so here you go. I also made the reader gender neutral so everyone can cry over Arthur together

Slipping in and out of consciousness, you look down to your blood soaked wound, the beautiful crimson color bled through your clothes. You had been helping John and Arthur escape when you were shot just right above the hip by one of Micah’s men. Now you were laying face up on the cave floor of Beaver Hollow, bleeding out, waiting for the white light to take you.

By now, everyone must be gone, dead or escaped. You tried to distract yourself from the burning pain in your side by thinking about Arthur. You could only hope that he made it out safe with John. That he was free. You were thankful that he hadn’t seen you get shot, that would’ve only slowed him down.

You fall back asleep, hoping that this time, the warm light would take you, but to no avail. Your eyes open slowly, you look around to only see the dark cave walls again. You hear something. At first, you only think your ears are playing tricks on you in your dying state, but then you hear it clearer this time. Footsteps. You panic, thinking it could be Murfree Brood coming back to take there hideout back, but you realize that it’s only one pair of footsteps echoing off the cave walls.

Whoever it is, you don’t care anymore. If they’re friendly then they could help you, and if they aren’t, hopefully they’ll kill you.

You don’t know how, but you manage to stand up, the burning feeling got worse, blood pooled out faster, and you could still feel the bullet lodged in your side, making your head spin. You hear the footsteps approaching faster, but still cautious, they must have heard your groans of pains.

Trying to walk towards the footsteps was easier said than done, with your vision spinning and the heavy flow of blood coming out, you would never had made it more than a few steps. Taking one step made you hiss in agony, and taking your second step, you fell over a crate, creating a loud thud, echoing around the walls. You hold onto the crate, your vision blurring once again.

You think you hear the footsteps now running towards you, but your vision is fading quickly. You try turning your head towards the footsteps, although all you can see is an outline of the person, and the white light behind them.

This time, you wake up somewhere different. You recognize the feeling of a saddle in-between your legs, and the bouncing motion of a horse galloping. You go to hold your wound but feel the restricting movements of a cloth tight around it.

You feel someone press their chest against your back, and you try to look to them. You don’t know who you were expecting, maybe a stranger, but you weren’t expecting to see Charles. His eyebrows were furrowed as he concentrates on making Taima gallop faster, his braided hair flows behind him in the wind.

He looks at you for a second, then back to the road. “I got the bullet out, and slowed the blood.” He says seriously. You nod and try to thank him, but your voice is hoarse from not being in use. Charles gives you some water, and this time you’re able to thank him.

This time, you willingly fall asleep, the rocking of Taima, and Charles’ warm body rocks you to sleep, and for a moment you even forget that you’re at the brink of death.

But it all comes back to you when you feel hands putting pressure on your wound. You try to pull the hands off your bleeding wound, but someone restrains your arms. So you try kicking, but again, your restrained. Your breathing goes rigid as you hyperventilate. You feel a cloth being stuffed into your mouth and you prepare for the worse. Whiskey is poured on your wound, you scream on the cloth, tears welling in your eyes. After that, the cloth is taken from your mouth and you pass out from the shock and pain.

You’re waken up to a young woman giving you water and some herbs to chew on. You weakly ask her where you are, and she tells you that you’re at the Wapiti Indian Reservation. You lift up your shirt to find your wound in tight bandages.

The girl unwraps your bandages and you can see that the wound has been stitched together, the girl told you that you were lucky it wasn’t infected. Although it wasn’t infected, the wound looked nasty. You flinched when the girl put some herbs on the wound, but it didn’t sting like you expected, it soothed the pain in the area.

“Where’s Charles?” You ask as she replaces your bandages.

“Mr. Smith has been gone ever since he brought you here. He helped hold you down while we treated your wound, but he left afterward. He should be back soon.”

Over the next few days, you stayed at the reservation until Charles came back. When he rode into the reservation, you were still in the medic tent. By now, you could move around fine, and even ride a horse, although you had to be very careful. Even though you’ve been feeling better, you couldn’t help but think about all the others and what happened to them.

He came into the tent and you sat up, immediately regretting doing so as you groan. Charles holds your back, helping you up slower.

“Where’d you go?” You try to act happy, but the sorrow in his eyes makes you frown. You have a feeling that what he’s about to say isn’t going to be good news.

“I went back to Beaver Hollow.” He looks down to the floor, avoiding eye contact, “I buried Ms. Grimshaw and Arthur.”

For a moment, you don’t even register what he said. You remember Ms. Grimshaw being killed by Micah, but Arthur? You stumble backwards in shock. All this time you thought Arthur had made it out with John. You couldn’t believe it. You wanted to scream, to trash out, do something. But you couldn’t. You fell to the ground of the tent, staring at the floor, tears welling in your eyes. Your mind goes blank and all you could see was Arthur’s face, his plump lips pulled into a smile, the small scar on his chin, the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled.

Your hands go to your crying face, the tears streamed out, you couldn’t do anything to stop it. You felt powerless, all the strength you’ve gotten back was suddenly gone. You’ve just been shot a couple days ago, and yet, this pain was worse.

You feel Charles wrapping his arms around you, and you cry into his shoulder. You desperately put your arms around his broad back, and clench and unclench your hands.  
Your sobbing would die down for a moment until you pictured Arthur’s face again, then the hot tears would stream down faster than before.

When you finally stopped crying, you looked at Charles, but didn’t dare to speak, afraid to break down again. He gives you some water and you gulp it down rapidly. Eventually, the lump in your throat has gone away and you ask Charles in an unsteady voice where he buried him.

“East of Bacchus Station, in the mountains.” He replies, you look into his eyes and can easily tell he was crying too. You take him into your arms and you hold each other until your forced to move.

It’s been a couple more days, and you’ve gotten a new horse. You decide that you don’t want to bother the Wapiti tribe more than you’ve already had, and you leave. Saying goodbye to Charles was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but he understood, leaving you go your separate ways.

Once outside the reservation, you started heading towards Grizzlies East, to the mountain that Charles told you about.

You reach Arthur’s grave around noon, you walk towards it, agony filling your heart. You kneel down next to the cross and read the beautiful engraving that Charles wrote. You smile sadly. The area was peaceful, just like Arthur deserved.

“You were a good man Arthur Morgan.” Your voice breaks. “I hope you know that.”

You stand up, wiping a couple tears from your eyes. You go to your horse and get on, looking at Arthur’s grave. Suddenly, you remember the pasture of wild flowers not too far away and go to collect some.

While picking the wild flowers, you hear a rustling sound, you pick your head up, staring directly into the eyes of a stag. You stare at him at bit longer, mesmerize by the beautiful deer. The stag then turns around and runs off, you stand there, in the field of wild flowers, staring at the place the stag once was. In an odd way, you felt calmer, more peaceful.

The ride back to Arthur’s grave was slow as you were loss in your own thoughts. The flowers were beautiful colors of reds and oranges, they reminded you of Arthur, just about everything did now. You could see everything he’d done and how it impacted people, good or bad.

When you got back to his grave you take a look around you. The area Charles chose was stunning and you knew if Arthur were here when he was alive, he would’ve sat down and drawn all of the surrounding scenery.

Slowly, you walk towards the grave again, flowers in hand. You place the bouquet down gently, forcing yourself not to cry. You feel drained, your body numb, your mind blank. All you could think about is how you could’ve saved him, and what you did wrong.

Standing up, you look at the flowers, then at Arthur’s grave. With heavy heart, you speak, “Goodbye Arthur.”

You get onto your horse, kicking your horse into a trot, you look at Arthur’s grave one last time, before never looking back.

About eight years has past, and Charles has told John the location of Arthur’s grave. John passed Bacchus Station, and the now fixed bridge he blew up with Arthur, He passed the Mysterious Hill Home, and made it into the mountains.

He got off his horse, going toward the location Charles told him about. He finds Arthur’s grave and walks to it, taking Arthur’s hat off his head and puts it to his chest. There, growing around the grave was beautiful red and orange wild flowers.


End file.
